


Little King

by Graf_Edric



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, High Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graf_Edric/pseuds/Graf_Edric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Altmer woman appears in Balmora, over three centuries after having fled the Psijic Order under mysterious circumstances. She has not come alone. Disclaimer: All copyrighted material property of its respective owners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            Lilaena briefly glanced up into her mentor’s pale, grey-blue eyes. She couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds. It had always been this way. Something about the intensity of that gaze along with the crippling schoolgirl crush she had on him – the emotion she felt was just too powerful; she was forced to look away. He was _so_ damned attractive.

            For years, she had secretly coveted him during every lesson; every moment she was in his presence, it was all she could do to quiet her pounding heart and try to hide the ache she felt for him. She wasn’t sure when it had started, this overpowering infatuation. Not long after becoming his pupil, certainly. At some point the icy blue eyes – highly unusual for an Altmer -- along with his lovely pale complexion and silvery platinum hair; the straight, tall build; those delicious dark red lips of his, and ironically, his seeming obliviousness to how incredibly beautiful he was; together these had conspired to ensnare Lilaena in this undying desire for her teacher. He was all business; a true master of his craft, universally considered one of the most brilliant students to have joined the Psijic Order in eons, able to control the elements – and possibly possessing of more sinister knowledge as well, if certain rumors were correct… But all she dreamed of was making him lose control. Somewhere under that cool and unflappable façade, she convinced herself she had sensed an animalistic passion and she wanted to be the one to unleash it.

            She had imagined it countless times, planned it, mulled it over and been terrified to follow through for too long. As it would turn out, it wasn’t really such a daunting task after all. A bit of obvious flirting, coyly delivered compliments, a few “accidental” touches here and there, and suddenly she found herself slammed between his tall, lean body and the ancient, cold stone wall of his study, his mouth on hers, and those beautiful pale hands of his clutching at her auburn hair with a hint of desperation. She responded eagerly, holding his face in her hands, caressing the soft, silvery locks that fell past his shoulders -- intentionally willing the encounter to escalate. He arched himself up against her in a way that seemed almost automatic, hard under his robes, poking her in the belly. She reached down and grabbed him and he made an anxious little struggling sound; not something she’d ever expected to hear out of her typically solemn and intellectual mentor. It brought a sly smile to her face.

            Abruptly, he lifted her off her feet and spun about, haphazardly chucking her onto his writing desk, which sent numerous items around her crashing to the floor. The back of her head bounced off the wooden desk, and it hurt a bit, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was blinded by whatever animal urges had hijacked his logical mind, and clawed frantically at her dress, as if he’d forgotten that it was open at the hem and thought he must literally tear it off to access her nether regions. To help him, and to spare her dress any further injury, Lilaena reached down and drew up her skirt, wrapping her legs around his narrow hips and pulling him in closer. Eyes half-closed and breath coming in gusts, he bent down and stuffed his face into her neck, moving as if he thought he could somehow penetrate her through his mage’s robes and trousers. She fumbled around the layers of fabric between them to find the laces at the front of his pants, yanking the ties out for him and helping to pull them down.

            Lilaena knew exactly what she was about to do, but she wasn’t sure what to expect, or how it would really feel, because she’d _never actually done this before_. She’d certainly heard all about it in great detail from other female students, and she was old enough to where most of her peers had been engaging in this sort of thing regularly for quite some time, but she’d always been very shy and studious. She’d just never wound up in a situation such as this one, and had never been inclined to seek it out until now.

            She slid her hand down his trousers and wrapped her fingers around him. He felt hot in her hand and there was a strange combination of hardness under the very softest and most delicate skin, not like anything she’d felt before. It was bigger than she had expected; much bigger, although having never really seen one in action, she couldn’t be certain it was unusually so. However, knowing what was about to happen, his size made her a little nervous. She worried now that it might not actually fit. Or that it might be terribly painful. She really wanted to look at it, but he was firmly pressed up against her with barely enough room for her to have slipped her hand down there. She imagined it was likely as pale and pink as the rest of him. Or perhaps it was the only part of him that was a proper Altmer golden color. She almost laughed, but she stopped herself as she knew there couldn’t possibly be a much worse time to suddenly burst out laughing.

            He kept pushing against her as if he was blindly hoping that he would eventually find the place he wanted to go. But his aim wasn’t very good; not to mention he was huge and for an Altmer, she was tiny – he seemed to become progressively more desperate and frustrated. He finally reached down, felt around, and unceremoniously jabbed a long finger inside her, eliciting a small yelp of pain, which he did not acknowledge. Having successfully located what he was after, he promptly removed the finger, drew back a bit, and thrust himself into her so aggressively that Lilaena felt the wind had been knocked out of her.  This was a whole new level of shocking. She gasped, trying not to cry out. The pain made her dizzy, and she was not altogether sure she could take it. She bit her bottom lip and struggled not to flinch too obviously.

            Thankfully, once he was inside of her, he became still for a moment, giving her a chance to compose herself. Perhaps he had noticed his protégé was in pain and decided he needed to be gentler. Lilaena wasn’t sure, but she was definitely relieved.  He softly kissed her face and neck before pulling back and lacing his fingers with hers, pinning her hands to the table on either side of her head. He stared intently into her face with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he started to move again. It was obvious he was putting great effort into keeping his movements very slow and gentle. It was still unpleasantly painful, but a bit more tolerable than before. He said nothing, but leaned in close and kissed her mouth. After just a moment or two, he abruptly stopped kissing her and tucked his face back into her neck. He let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her up against him tightly and jamming himself inside of her so hard she cried out. He no longer seemed to be in control of his actions. He pushed his forehead against hers, his eyes slammed shut, and let out an involuntary groan. His whole body seemed to stiffen before collapsing on top of her on the desk, panting into her hair one side of her head. Lilaena had felt everything inside and out, she knew exactly what had happened, and she was more than a bit relieved that it had ended so quickly. He remained on top of her like a very lanky sack of potatoes, winded, for several minutes before he finally pulled out and straightened back up. Lilaena had been pretending she’d enjoyed it as best she could, stroking his hair and his back as he lay slumped over her, but when he stood up, there were obvious dark splotches on the front of his trousers and some on his robe. She was mortified.

The pale blue eyes darted down to his bloodied clothing and back to her. “Did I hurt you?” He inquired, still slightly out of breath.

Lilaena wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh… no… well, a little – it’s not your fault -- It’s just that… I’ve never done this before.” She explained, feeling her face grow hot with embarrassment.

“Oh… I – I didn’t know,” her mentor responded. He looked concerned.

“Well, of course you wouldn’t have known. I probably acted like I do it all the time.”

He laughed. “No… you just acted like you wanted it. _Very_ _badly.”_

Lilaena hid her face in her hands. “Oh Gods.”

“What? It’s not a _bad_ thing. I wanted it as well.” He assured her.  He stepped forward and pressed her head to his chest. _“Just don’t tell anyone.”_

“Oh, I won’t,” she avowed. She knew he was right. The Order would not take kindly to the idea of them engaging in anything other than a strictly professional relationship. And they were already watching her mentor very closely due to rampant rumors he was involved in something they vehemently opposed: Necromancy.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The two mages, master and apprentice, had been working together for over three years when Lilaena had finally found the courage to seduce him. Admittedly a brief span in the lives of two Altmer, who often survived for a upwards of a few hundred years, but for all intents and purposes, the apprenticeship was expected by both parties to continue for at least another several years. Lilaena hoped that in this time, their obvious lust for one another would also continue, and evolve into something deeper and more meaningful.

            Lilaena knew of the vicious rumors. She knew that Vanus Galerion, a fellow student and former friend of her mentor, had fervently insisted on many occasions that the rumors were true and that the Order should publically sever all ties with her mentor and send him far away. Even so, he would still arrive at his study day after day, as if all was still good and right in their world. And it was. Until one day, he just wasn’t there. Lilaena found this concerning, but not terribly so, as he had been late before. Never _this_ late, but she decided to investigate before she flew into any sort of panic over it. She found her way down the familiar halls to his quarters and knocked on the door. She received no answer. She knocked again, growing more alarmed.

            “Master,” she called politely through the aged wooden door. She placed her ear against it so that she would be able to pick up even the faintest response. “Hello, are you in there?” She repeated, knocking again. She felt a cold wave of dread wash over her. This was not in any way typical of her mentor. She feared he was injured or gravely ill, lying helplessly somewhere, unable to respond -- or worse. “Master!” She cried, panic making its way into her voice. “It’s Lilaena!” Silence greeted her once again. She pounded loudly on the door. “Hello? Are you alright? Answer me please! _Mannimarco!”_

            Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It startled her, and she jumped. She spun around to see Galerion. He regarded her quizzically. “Why would you be calling your teacher by his given name?” The question was obviously rhetorical, as before she could respond, he continued, with a slight air of satisfaction, “He’s gone. He won’t be back. You will be training with me from now on.”

            A sick feeling came over her. It felt as though a large rock had passed through her chest cavity and was now settling into her guts. “No…” she whispered. She wanted to cry; she wanted to pounce on Galerion and smash his head into the stone floor.

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Galerion replied casually. He took her by the wrists. “Come along now. I need to see what you know – outside of playing with dead things, of course.”

            Lilaena found her voice again. “No!” She snapped, yanking her arms out of his grasp. “Where’s Mannimarco? What have you done with him?”

            Galerion smirked. “Oh, come now, be serious. You think I had something to do with this? You know as well as I do that no one tells Mannimarco what to do. I haven’t _done_ anything with him,” he chuckled smugly. “He left. Of his own volition. In fact, I seem to recall that he said _you_ were the reason he was leaving. Something to do with you following him around constantly, like a needy little child. He wanted to get away from you; that’s why he left.”

            Lilaena was horrified. It couldn’t be true! Her mentor had always welcomed her company, and it was quite obvious he enjoyed spending time with her. He often went out of his way to invent reasons for her to join him after hours and during his days off. Certainly he would have said something had her presence been getting on his nerves. “I don’t believe you,” she retorted. “He always wanted me around. He is my friend! What’ve you done to him?” Tears stung her eyes. She looked away, trying to hide them from Galerion.

            “Oh, he was more than just your ‘friend’; we’re all well aware of that. You two thought you were _so_ crafty. Trust me -- the only reason you weren’t punished is because we have no proof,” Galerion laughed. “But if you don’t believe me, why don’t you have a look at this?” He produced a scroll from one of his pockets and handed it over.

            Plainly written in her mentor’s usual scribbly hand, Lilaena read the scroll silently to herself, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

_“Lilaena,_

_“I am writing to tell you goodbye. I am sorry I did not warn you of my departure, but it is for the best. I hope you will understand. Please do not try to find me. I am officially ending your apprenticeship and I will not be able to contact you again. Take care of yourself._

_“Regards,_

_“Your Teacher”_

He hadn’t even signed his name. But there it was, clearly written by his hand. Had he been coerced? Lilaena didn’t know what to think. She was terrified for his well-being. Surely, having known him for so long, she’d have been able to tell if he was growing restless in his station at the Psijic Order or in his relationship with her. There had to be something sinister behind his disappearance. The only other possibility, she thought, was that maybe they’d made him some sort of amazing offer he couldn’t refuse. Perhaps they’d bought him off, thereby ridding themselves of the supposed indignity his presence brought to their Order and ending the illicit relationship between the two of them, without actually causing him any harm. She certainly preferred this explanation. She tried to stifle the great sobs that shook her, telling herself that this was the most likely eventuality. The Psijic Order wasn’t an evil, murderous organization. Surely, her beloved teacher was alright, wherever he was.

The thought comforted her slightly but the uncertainty of his condition still weighed on her. And the stark, painful realization that if this was, in fact, the case, he’d willingly left her behind. She’d like to have been sure he wouldn’t have done something like that, but in all honesty, she wasn’t completely convinced. They’d been in this covert romance for some time now, and yet he’d never actually told her he loved her, or made any future plans that included her at all. Maybe he _had_ just abandoned her without a second thought.

Vanus Galerion regarded her as if she were insane and reached for her arm again. She turned around and fled. She ran out of the ancient building and around to the garden, hysterical sobs shaking her whole body. She couldn’t stop crying. Hiding just outside the garden wall, she cried until she was spent, and even then, the flood of tears wouldn’t stop. It was growing dark outside. Exhausted, Lilaena dragged her aching body back to her quarters and collapsed on her bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

She couldn’t recall at what point the tears stopped and she finally fell asleep, but when she awoke, her room looked… odd. What time was it? She was used to waking at dawn to begin her studies, when the rising sun had just begun to turn the sky a cool blue shade. Now, a vibrant yellow streamed into her quarters through the small window at the foot of her bed. She lifted herself up on her elbows and immediately regretted it. The room spun and her mouth filled with saliva as if she were about to be sick. She lay back down and concentrated on her breathing. The feeling passed, and she forced herself out of bed. Dazedly, she headed for the washroom and began her usual routine. She felt absolutely wretched. Heavy, overpowering exhaustion permeated her whole being. The feeling wasn’t a normal sort of fatigue. It was as if she’d been drugged, or poisoned. Slogging down to the garden, she plucked a few select herbs and concocted a simple remedy, confident it would cure whatever ailed her. She wondered suspiciously if someone had managed to slip her something to cause this awful feeling. _Galerion._ She wasn’t sure how he’d done it but if anyone was to blame for this, it was that wicked backstabber Galerion. She sipped the potion, gagging and barely managing to keep it down, and awaited the relief she was sure it would bring. As the minutes passed, she began to realize it wasn’t working. Well, that was that. She was a tough girl; she would just have to press on.

Trying her best to ignore the dreadful sensation that threatened to overwhelm her, Lilaena took a deep breath and made her way to her beloved Master’s old study, hoping that against all hope, he’d have returned for his student and lover. Gripping the door handle, she braced herself for the reality that he most likely wouldn’t be there. She pulled the door open and blinked. She saw the light hit a headful of long, gleaming platinum hair. Her heart leapt and tears of joy sprung to her eyes. But she quickly realized, as the figure turned to face her, that it wasn’t her beautiful teacher. It was Galerion. They shared almost identical coloring, but their faces were nothing alike. Not to Lilaena, at least. People often speculated that they could be brothers, but she disagreed. While Mannimarco had more delicate features, with a straight, pointy nose; fine, white eyebrows and eyelashes, and the sweetest little babyish red lips, Galerion’s features were much heavier. His eyebrows were thick and bushy, his nose bulky and upturned, and his thick lips always seemed twisted into a pout of disapproval and distain for everyone and everything around him. And the ears – he was missing those adorable long ears that protruded from her instructor’s hair at a nearly perpendicular angle to his gorgeous head. She loved those ears.

Lilaena couldn’t hide her disappointment and started crying again. Vanus Galerion sighed heavily. “Where have you been?”

“I was sleeping,” she grumbled, sniffling. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe.

“Sleeping one off, you mean,” Galerion alleged with a sneer. “You look like shite.”

“I wasn’t drinking. I was crying… I think I was poisoned.” She realized how silly this sounded, but she truly believed it. Even hours of gut-wrenching sobbing couldn’t explain how awful she felt.

“Maybe your great Master came back to finish you off,” Galerion supposed. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure he intended to reanimate your corpse. It’s what he does, isn’t it?”

She felt a passionate vehemence rise up inside of her and her heart began to pound. “How dare you? He would never…”  All of a sudden, she felt faint and broke into a sweat. She grabbed the door frame to keep herself upright. “…He would never do something like that to me…” she continued, her voice trailing off into a whisper as she fought the urge to be sick.

Galerion continued, oblivious to her state of distress. “Enough of this dramatic nonsense, apprentice. We expect you to be on time for your studies if you intend to continue with the Order.”

Lilaena was too preoccupied with trying to remain upright and control her watering mouth to comprehend much of what he was saying. Maybe the stress of the whole situation was too much for her and was causing physical symptoms. The very sight of Galerion literally made her nauseous. He continued to scold her condescendingly and she quickly realized her mental efforts weren’t going to be enough. She clapped a hand over her mouth and dashed back outside to be sick in a bush.

Galerion followed and watched her as if she were some spectacle, his expression a mix of distain and amusement. “What is the matter with you?” He laughed with such false incredulousness that she was certain he was behind it.

As soon as she could speak, Lilaena told him he was making her sick. “ _You_ caused this,” she choked, tears still flowing uncontrollably. “Get away from me. Leave me alone!”

Galerion waved her off, robes swishing. “You’re not pinning this on me,” he snorted. “I didn’t cause this.”

“You’re making me sick. You -- you probably poisoned me last night. You’d better get me something to fix it, too, or you’ll be the next one to disappear. I’ll make sure they all know what you’ve done!”

“Did you just threaten me? Dear child. I am quite sure I cannot cure what you have contracted. It is not my… field of expertise. And I most certainly am not responsible for it.” His tone was one of sarcasm.

“Mannimarco didn’t do this to me! He would never hurt me!” She knew she sounded to this prominent mage like nothing but a hysterical little girl in denial. She didn’t care. She refused to believe he would have done anything to bring her harm.

Galerion rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re excused from your duties for today. Go back to your quarters and get some rest. Let’s _hope_ you’re feeling better tomorrow.”

Lilaena returned to her room feeling sick, sad and frustrated. She managed to choke down a few pieces of bread and went to lie down. As much as she wanted to sleep, her mind wouldn’t allow it. She finally dozed off only to be awakened by a vivid nightmare about her former mentor being hunted by mercenaries. She had saved him from a vicious beating and carefully covered him with blankets to take him by horse drawn cart to a healer, but upon arriving, when she pulled back the blanket, he was dead. She sat in her bed and cried, again. She wanted to know what had become of him, to put her mind at ease. As upsetting as it was to think he might have willingly abandoned her, it was better than being left to wonder if he was suffering -- if he was even alive at all.

It was highly out of character for Lilaena to be caught in such a state of despair. Even under the circumstances, she would normally have been able to carry on as though nothing was amiss, saving the worry and gloom for times when she could afford to indulge in such things. She tried to distract herself with her studies, but her mind was foggy. She couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Mannimarco and the many unpleasant scenarios that might explain his absence. And every time she thought of him, the tears would come again. Her chest hurt, which she surmised was probably from all of the sobbing. It felt as though she’d spent all day hauling piles of iron ingots.

The next morning, she awoke to the same symptoms as the day before. Her mysterious illness actually seemed to be getting worse. She was sick twice before she even left her quarters. She collected her thoughts and forced herself to walk to her former master’s study. It was empty. She sat in his old chair and put her head down on the table, more tears sliding down her cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

The next thing she was aware of was a sharp knock on the wooden tabletop which nearly made her jump out of her seat. She’d fallen asleep. Looking up to see Vanus Galerion glaring down at her, she was instantly nauseated. “Go away,” she groaned, letting her head fall back to the table with a thump.

“Still sick?” He inquired with that awful tone that inferred some knowledge of the cause of her ailment.

“Just tell me what you did with him. I just want to know the truth.” She demanded, struggling to ignore the compulsion to retch.

“I told you; he left of his own volition. I didn’t do anything to him. I don’t know why you think he’s such a fine example of goodness and loyalty. I can assure you, he’s nothing of the sort. He wanted to leave. He had other interests to pursue.”

“I need to go,” she blurted out, knowing only that she needed to get away from Galerion before she was sick again. She gathered her books and made haste for the exit. He followed several paces behind and watched, shaking his head as she ran for the privacy of a nearby stand of oak trees to retch.

“Lilaena,” he said in a low voice, slowly drawing nearer, “Is this normal for you?”

She shook her head, puzzled by his question. How could suddenly being violently ill for no apparent reason be _normal_ for _anyone?_

“Did you eat something that may have been spoiled? Tell me the truth, child – Have you been drinking?”

“No,” she replied, “I haven’t. I swear it. It’s all of the stress; it’s this awful situation, I don’t know… Just leave me alone.”

            “Go back to your quarters and rest. If you don’t feel better soon, I’ll bring a healer by to have a look at you.”

            “Thank you.” She actually dreaded the idea of Galerion coming by with a healer to look at her. She just wanted to be far away from his stomach-turning presence. She couldn’t tell if he was truly concerned, or if he was hoping to prove she was actually hung over and have her banished from the Order. Surely he would relish having an excuse to persecute the protégé of his arch rival.

            Lilaena headed back to her room. She held her books against her chest to keep everything steady as she walked. Otherwise it hurt too much. She was spent, sick, and now she was in pain. She felt like the whole of Nirn was crashing down around her. If only she could run away, back to Auridon. But she knew better. Her family would disown her if they found she’d abandoned the Order. Her being accepted was their main source of pride. She couldn’t face them having left over something like this. They would never understand.

            That night, she experienced another vivid dream. This time, however, at least it was less horrific, if still quite peculiar. She found herself carrying a bundle of blankets, and when she pulled them aside, she found a tiny white Khajit gazing lovingly back at her with crystal blue eyes. A strange mer walked up and looked at the bundle. He asked her, disparagingly, why she would carry a cat around in a blanket. Offended, she shooed him away. _How could he be so insensitive?_ She thought, _He might be a feral animal to you, but he’s still my baby!_

            She woke up and stared into the darkness of her room, pondering the dream and what it could possibly mean. Before she could figure it out, she was back asleep, dreaming another wild dream. It had something to do with being chased by slaughterfish, but upon awaking again she was so sick, she didn’t have time to lie there and consider possible meaning of it. She quickly made the determination that she would stick to her quarters for the day.

            It was a bizarre illness. There were moments when she felt quite alright. Then she would be famished and could sit there and down half a loaf of bread and an apple or two, and an hour later be retching like she’d been poisoned. The feeling of pure exhaustion and that lingering twinge of grief never quite left her, though. Perhaps it would be wise to have the healer examine her, just to make sure she hadn’t somehow contracted some exotic, deadly disease. She waited patiently, expecting Galerion to come by at any time. A day passed, then two. As she lay in bed studying, she began to notice how exceedingly uncomfortable it was becoming to lie on her stomach. _How odd_ , she thought. And then, a sudden, stark realization came over her. She instantaneously understood the cause of her illness and what it meant she had to do. Her heart abruptly leapt from her chest into her throat and her mind was racing a thousand places at once. She needed to leave the Order - _NOW_. Before Vanus Galerion arrived with his healer.

            She rushed around, cramming various necessities into a large knapsack. She was terrified Galerion and the healer would get to her before she had a chance to flee with her newly discovered secret. If they were to somehow find out… she didn’t even want to think of what might happen.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

            Lilaena had no idea where she would go. She just knew she had to leave the Psijic Order and disappear before Galerion and the healer arrived. She had never felt such panic in all her life. Every creak of the ancient building that held the student quarters terrified her because it might have been the two of them heading up the stairs. Every thump from another room sounded to her like it was coming from her door.

            When she felt she had packed as many necessary items as she could fit into the knapsack and a smaller pouch she had, she had to make the harrowing journey out of her room and down the hall to the stairs. Her heart hammered and she still felt nauseous. She prayed to the gods to let her escape undetected by any high ranking members of the Order.

            She made it to the stairwell and was racing down the winding staircase when she encountered another student, who tried to stop her and talk. She pushed past the young woman, ignoring her words, and fled through the great hall and out the front doors. It was almost midday and the bright sunlight hurt her eyes after having spent days holed up in her dark quarters. She sprinted like mad, ignoring the pain in her chest and the terrible exhaustion, across the grounds, as fast as her feet would carry her, and didn’t stop until she had cleared the campus entirely. The panic, the physical exertion – she was _so_ sick when she finally stopped running. She didn’t know how long she’d been slumped against a tall old maple tree when she became aware of footsteps drawing nearer.

            A Dunmer woman had seen her and came over to have a look. At first, Lilaena was too sick to even acknowledge the woman, and she was immediately afraid the stranger was somehow involved with the Psijic Order.

            “Are you alright, sera?” She inquired softly, an expression of concern on her dark features.

            “Do I _look_ like I’m alright?” Lilaena retorted facetiously, wondering if she should try to flee before the Dunmer got any closer.

            “Well, no, you don’t. That’s why I was asking.” She replied patiently. The woman was older; her black hair streaked with grey, and she had a kind, grandmotherly look about her.

            Lilaena didn’t know much about Dunmer. She had met a few in her lifetime and knew they were the grey-skinned “Dark Elves” who originated from the northern province of Morrowind. They tended to be a bit unfriendly and clannish and didn’t much care for foreigners, whom they referred to as “outlanders” or the more derogatory “n’wah”, and generally tried to avoid.

            “I’m sure I will be okay. I’m just feeling a little sick right now.” Lilaena explained, trying to seem as calm as possible so as not to arouse any suspicion.

            The Dunmer woman knelt down beside Lilaena and began rummaging around in a leather satchel. “Hmmm… I have some potions that might help…”

            “Oh no, potions won’t help. I’ve tried, and I just… they didn’t do much. But thank you. I appreciate the offer.” Lilaena smiled sweetly, hoping the woman would just leave.

            “Well, you know, there’s no single potion can cure all manner of sickness. We’d have to find the proper mixture for your particular ailment.”

            Lilaena couldn’t help but be fearful that this woman wasn’t just an innocent old lady looking to help out of the goodness of her heart. Her presence seemed much too coincidental. Lilaena, as politely as possible, refused her assistance and hauled herself to her feet once again.

            She trudged along aimlessly for what seemed like ages, not knowing where to go or what to do once she got there, and she was constantly terrified that at any moment, agents of the Order would arrive to do gods-knew-what to her. Suddenly, an idea dawned on her. She had heard rumors of a female mage in Dusk who provided what was known as “guide services”. She was a sorcerer that, for a price, could transport someone to various locations, wherein another “guide” would then receive them. To Lilaena, this sounded like the best option for quickly disappearing. She knew she had to find passage to the Summerset Isle and then head south to reach Dusk. She quickly made her way to the small main dock, where she waited for the next ferry. All the while, her heart would pound every time someone came close. She told herself to be calm. As far as she knew, the only person who might possibly suspect anything was Galerion, and even then, she had no reason to think he believed she was anything more than hung over. After what seemed to be an eternity, the ferry appeared on the horizon. Lilaena paid the small fee for passage, keeping the conversation with the boat’s pilot to a bare minimum.

            She felt much better if she kept her mind off the possibility of being hunted by the Order and instead focused on the scenery, or imagined various possibilities concerning this little secret of hers that was currently causing her so much grief. Apparently the strange khajit dream had actually meant something. Only it wasn’t a tiny cat that people would likely shame her for carrying around; it was something a bit different than that. _Quite possibly with the same hair and eye color as the cat, though, and_ hopefully _those adorable and highly impressive ears._ She smiled at the thought in spite of her circumstances.

            After disembarking, she followed the main road until she came to a fork with a signpost directing her off to the left to reach Dusk. The sight was thrilling after her long and traumatic day. She very nearly skipped off down the path. She arrived in the early evening and found that most of the shops had closed for the day. Asking a trader who was in the process of sweeping his front steps led her to the local inn and tavern, where she paid the small fee to reserve a room for the night. She didn’t have much gold, but she knew that if she ran out, her jewelry would buy her a few necessities. Hopefully it would be enough to pay the guide at least. And after that, who knew…

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

            Morning came much too quickly, after Lilaena had spent much of the night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. She missed her comfy old bed at the Order. Groaning, she forced herself out of bed and gathered her few belongings. She felt dirty, but didn’t know where to find a bathhouse. Besides, she wanted to get moving. Once she had arrived at her new destination, whatever that might be, she would take the time to get cleaned up and relax. For now, she couldn’t afford to wait.

            Fortunately, a few inquiries in the tavern were all it took for her to find the guide she’d heard about. Apparently this woman was quite well-known in town. Lilaena knocked on the door of the modest looking home with slight apprehension. It didn’t look like a place of business. An elderly Altmer answered.

            “Hello, eh… I was told I can find a guide here,” Lilaena explained to the woman, who appeared disconcertingly feeble.

            “Oh, yes. That is my daughter, Estriel. You know what sort of guide she is, of course. Not your typical tour guide,” the old lady explained in a shaky voice, her smile revealing several missing front teeth.

            “Yes… I’ve been told she can transport people to different places.”

            “She can. It is amazing, what she does. She’s a very talented girl, my Estriel. Come now, I’ll take you to her,” the woman placed a gnarled hand on Lilaena’s shoulder and showed her the way down a short hall, to a room filled with various alchemy tools and what appeared to be a homemade enchanting table. A tall, graceful looking elf appeared out of the shadows, wearing typically drab civilian robes, her long blonde hair pulled up into an elaborate knot atop her head. For some reason, Lilaena immediately felt nervous. Something about this woman’s presence made her uneasy. She glanced around, thinking she might discover the source of the foreboding sensation, but nothing really looked amiss.

            The woman approached Lilaena silently and looked her up and down before speaking. “Hello…” she finally offered in a haughty tone, staring Lilaena right in the eye.

            “Hello,” Lilaena replied. She forced the warmest smile she could manage, hoping the guide wouldn’t see through it.

            “Who are you?” the guide inquired.

            Lilaena almost gave her real name before thinking better of it. “I’m Amaire,” she choked out, hating the feeling of being dishonest, and wondering how obvious it was to the guide. Amaire was her favorite cousin’s name and the first that popped into her mind.

            “I see. Well, as you likely know, I am Estriel. You are aware that there is a fee for my services, are you not?”

            “Yes, of course. I have some coin right here,” Lilaena held up the small pouch, praying silently to the gods that what she had scraped up was enough to buy her passage.

            “And where is it that you would like to go?”

            Lilaena swallowed hard, feeling a bit sick, as usual. She tried to think of the farthest place she could from Artaeum. “Morrowind,” she blurted out. It had come to mind only because of her brief encounter with the old Dunmer just after having fled the Psijic Order.

            “I do have a guide in Morrowind. She is located on Vaardenfel. Would this suit you?”

            “Yes, that would be fine,” Lilaena confirmed, thinking, _Good – the more isolated, the better!_

            Estriel then eyed Lilaena again in the same manner as before. Was it haughtiness or suspicion? Lilaena couldn’t tell.

            “So, how do we do this?” Lilaena spoke up, trying to ignore the woman’s piercing gaze.

            Estriel ignored her inquiry. “Amaire. Is that what you said your name was?”

            Lilaena nodded.

            “Amaire… you have not come here alone. You know this, I assume.”

            Lilaena felt a cold wave of anxiety wash over her. Her palms began to sweat. She nodded again, hoping she didn’t look as uneasy as she felt.

            “I may seem a bit forward in this, so forgive me, but have you come here from Artaeum?”

            “No,” Lilaena quickly shot back, her knees suddenly threatening to buckle. “From Auridon.” She felt as though she would black out at any moment.

            “Ah, I see. Well I am originally from Artaeum. This will probably sound rather odd to you, but I can… _sense_ things. Others. Everyone has a certain aura, and I can recognize those I’ve encountered before, especially some; some have a more …memorable aura. The child’s father is one of these sorts – he is also from Artaeum.”

            Lilaena was ready to turn around and make a mad dash for the front door at this point. All she could do was shake her head ‘no’. Her body was literally so wracked with panic that she was left speechless.

            Estriel continued, “Oh yes; he is. He may have said otherwise, but he is, I assure you. Tall and thin with white hair and blue eyes -- quite striking…” She could obviously see the recognition in Lilaena’s eyes. She smiled. “You see, I do know. Is he aware of the child?”

            “I… I don’t know,” Lilaena stammered. He wasn’t aware, of course, but not being able to identify this woman’s intentions, she wanted to tread as delicately as possible.

            “Let us hope not. Of course, you’ve been told of what he does, the father of your child. What he practices.”

            “I know what everyone _says_ he does,” Lilaena couldn’t help herself. On one hand, she was incredibly relieved that this woman’s only intent was seemingly to engage in some juicy gossip about her former lover’s pastimes, but on the other hand, she was so _tired_ of hearing it. Maybe he did go around reanimating dead things – so what? Quite honestly, she already knew he was at the very least capable of it, because at one point during a stroll on the beach, he’d brought a dead mudcrab back to life in an attempt to amuse her. She’d found it in no way scandalous or troubling. He’d warned her against trying to duplicate his performance in front of anyone else, insisting she’d be persecuted for it, and that was the end of it. At no point had his intentions ever seemed even remotely sinister to her.

            “I’m sure it’s difficult for you to face. But you obviously believe at least some of it, seeing as you’re here asking for my help.” Estriel surmised.

            Lilaena just shrugged. _Whatever you want to believe, old lady…_ she thought.

            “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m going to make absolutely sure that you and that baby are safe. I won’t even charge you. Just step over there,” she pointed to a small platform in one corner of the room.

            An odd combination of nervousness and relief swept over Lilaena. She positioned herself on the platform and waited. Estriel brought up her hands, which were surrounded with a soft, white glow. Deep in concentration, she began to recite a spell. Almost instantly, Lilaena was enveloped in a bright light, which was all she could see for a fleeting moment. And then, nothingness, for an indeterminate period of time. It was disconcerting, to feel as though one was in a vacuum – her senses were useless to her in this void. She became more and more alarmed as the moments passed. Had something gone wrong?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

            Finally, after a stretch of time that seemed quite inordinate, although she couldn’t say with certainty, Lilaena gradually became aware of very faint lights and sounds, which at first seemed rather far away. Slowly, the nothingness began to give way to recognizable voices, and then architecture all around her and the novel smells of a place she’d never experienced before. “By the Gods, I’ve got her! She’s here!” A female voice rang out. Lilaena’s amber-green eyes met the grey gaze of a pale, pink complected stranger in a lavish robe. The woman was of a smaller stature than Lilaena, with rounded ears like those of the races of men. _Probably a Breton,_ Lilaena deduced.

            “Hello there,” the unfamiliar woman greeted her with a broad grin in Tamriel’s common tongue. She seemed oddly delighted to make Lilaena’s acquaintance.

            Lilaena was suddenly distracted by a pang of worry over what the journey might have done to her little secret. She stood speechless, trying to determine whether or not she still felt sufficiently nauseated and exhausted to allay her concern. As if in response, her mouth immediately started watering.

            “Hello,” she managed, swallowing hard a few times. No -- that wasn’t working. “I need …the toilet,” she blurted out, feeling quite mortified.

            “Oh dear, let me help you,” the stranger offered, grabbing Lilaena’s arms and guiding her towards the facilities. No matter how many times this happened, each episode was still just as hideous to Lilaena as the last. The woman led her to the toilet but thankfully allowed her to go in by herself and shut the door. She loathed having an audience. That despicable Galerion, what was his affliction? She was sure he’d gotten some sort of sadistic thrill out of watching her get sick. Everyone thought he was such a great mer, but in her eyes he was just as foul as the low-bred scum from which he’d originated, before he was so fortunately rescued by the order.

            Lilaena exited the facilities to find the Breton waiting for her with the same, excited grin. She felt as though there might have been some thrilling secret betwixt them of which she was yet unaware. Was she supposed to know what all of the enthusiasm was about?

            “So, welcome to Balmora!” the woman cooed, firmly guiding Lilaena to a section of the large building that housed several sets of bunk beds. At this point, a few other individuals had joined in the brigade, including a middle-aged male Dunmer with several earrings in his ears, a characteristically proper old Altmer lady, and a husky young Orcish girl. What was this silly cast of idiots?

            “Thanks…” Lilaena replied with uncertainty.

            “I’m so happy you’re finally here,” the Breton chirped.

            “Yes, welcome, traveler,” the Dunmer chimed in.

            It was clear to Lilaena that there was something exciting surrounding her arrival here. The Breton motioned for her to sit down on one of the lower bunks and the motley group gathered round, gaping at her expectantly. She fervently hoped she wouldn’t heave all over the lot of them.

            “So,” the Breton woman said, glancing at her companions and then back at Lilaena, “We are so happy you’re here, finally. Are you feeling any better, I hope?”

            “I’m alright,” Lilaena replied, puzzled by and simultaneously loathing all of the attention she was getting.

            “I’m not sure if you know; it was quite a task to get you here. I noticed your presence quite a while ago but I was unable to retrieve you until now.”

            So that was why it had seemed like such a wait in that terrible plane of nothingness. “Oh, it’s quite alright. I was only just beginning to become worried when you found me,” Lilaena explained.

            “How long did it seem to you?” The Dunmer regarded her quizzically. “Because they’ve been trying to retrieve you for as long as I’ve been in the Guild. And from what I’ve heard, they’ve been aware of your presence out there for quite a while before that.” 

            “Yes. At least a couple of centuries,” the Altmer woman added. She looked old enough to know.

            Lilaena suddenly felt very cold and lonely. A couple _centuries?_ It had seemed like no more than several moments to her – drawn out, stressful moments, but just moments all the same. “It seemed to be just a few minutes to me… What year is it?” She asked, not sure she even wanted to know.

            “It’s the year 559 of the Second Era,” the Dunmer male answered.

            “Oh no,” Lilaena whispered, shaking her head. “How is this possible?”

            “Well, it was either intentional, or the Guild Guide who sent you was not very good at their trade. When did you leave?”

            Lilaena turned back to the Breton woman. She felt disconnected from reality, and willed herself to wake up from this bizarre dream. “229... I left in 229. From Dusk. It was an elf, an Altmer named Estriel who sent me.”

            “Hmm… Never heard of her. The Guild didn’t even exist until 230. She must have been practicing independently. I wonder what on Nirn she was trying to do.” The Altmer mused.

            “She was trying to make me disappear, I guess… I believe that’s what she thought I wanted.” Lilaena supposed. “And… you said ‘the Guild’. They have that here, a guild for guides?”

            The small group that had gathered around her murmured and chuckled. “Oh no, dear,” the Altmer woman said with a sympathetic smile, “The Mages’ Guild. You wouldn’t know, of course. Galerion didn’t even start the Guild until the year after you were lost.”

            Lilaena froze and stared at the woman, hair bristling on the back of her neck. Had she heard that correctly? Had she just mentioned _Galerion?_ “Pardon me, but what did you just say?”

            “Oh, forgive me. I’ll explain, dear. Vanus Galerion, the famous mage, started the Guild back in 2E230. Really, you just missed it. Have you heard of Galerion? I don’t know if he was so famous when you left. I believe he was probably still just a student of the Psijic Order back then.”

            Lilaena suppressed the urge to announce that she knew _exactly_ who Galerion was, and that he was the very mer from whom she was trying to escape when she was lost in that void of nothingness for over three hundred years. She was also dying to ask if anyone had ever heard of Galerion’s former friend and fellow student, the attractive and much-maligned Mannimarco, but she thought better of it, considering she was surrounded by members of a fraternity apparently founded by his arch rival.

            How ironic that in her attempt to run from Vanus Galerion, she had wound up instead being rescued by his followers. She wanted to be disgusted, but they all seemed so decent and kind. She simply nodded, afraid that she’d say the wrong thing.

            “So, you’re from Dusk, eh?” the aging Altmer inquired.

            “Yes,” Lilaena lied. She hated lying, but she felt she had no choice.

            “What’s your name, elf?” the Orc spoke up at last.

            “Amaire.” A sensation of loss enveloped her. She wondered if she’d ever be able to tell people her real name. She needed to find out if Vanus was still alive. If so, depending on how famous and powerful he’d become, she might never be able to go by her real name again.

            The group of mages cordially introduced themselves one by one: The Breton was Ameline; the Altmer, Sondarie; the Dunmer was Valen; and the Orc was Shulag. Lilaena politely smiled and acknowledged each guild member, thanking them for rescuing her. She was truly glad to be alive, and safe – for now – from any sort of persecution. The thoughts and questions about Mannimarco and now Galerion still nagged her, but for the moment, she decided, she had more pressing things to attend to, such as finding out exactly where she had wound up after all this time…

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

            “Forgive me, but did I actually make it to Morrowind?” Lilaena inquired following the round of introductions.

            “Uh yeh, you’re in Balmora, like Ameline said,” the Orc retorted.

            “She’s from the Summerset Isles, Shulag – she doesn’t know anything about this place,” Sondarie the Altmer jumped in to defend her. “You’re on Vaardenfel, dear. In one of the nicest towns on the island, I might add. You certainly chose a good place to come back to Nirn.”

            “I’m just dying to know, if you don’t mind, of course -- why did you leave? What were you running from?” Ameline questioned her politely.

            Lilaena swiftly attempted to compose an effective lie. “My… husband was being hunted by these, uh …assassins,” she told them as convincingly as she could. “He just got involved with some bad mer, that’s all. He asked the guide to send me far away so they wouldn’t find me.”

            “Well, she certainly took that request seriously,” Valen chuckled. “I mean, I believe she went a bit far with it. But I’ll wager they never find you, so it was quite effective.”

            Lilaena nodded in agreement, forcing a smile. Talking about the motive behind her escape only made her think of Mannimarco, and the reality that after more than three hundred years, her beloved mentor was most likely now a lonely little urn of ashes in a dark tomb somewhere. She immediately willed her mind away from the thought, before it made her cry.

            The small group of guild members set about making sure Lilaena was comfortable and well fed. She was able to take a much-needed bath, and Sondarie brought her some clothing, since Lilaena’s dress was quite out of fashion, along with a quality pair of netch-leather boots. Valen cooked up some local fare for her to eat, which she graciously thanked him for but could barely stomach. It looked like gigantic insect parts mixed with rice and a side of mushy, orange potatoes, all of which had a flavor that tasted something like ashy old fish. She pushed it around on the plate a little bit, and noticed with revulsion that even the motif on the dinnerware was that of a large, segmented insect. For a girl from the Summerset Isles, where there were always plenty of freshly caught fish and a wide variety of fruits and vegetables to be had, Morrowind’s cuisine was definitely going to take some getting used to.

            Lilaena managed to casually ask Ameline later on that evening if the esteemed founder of their guild was still alive. To Lilaena’s chagrin, Ameline confirmed that as far as she knew, he was. _Good Gods, that would make him well over 350 years old at this point._ This gave her some hope that her lover was also still kicking.

“Oh, I see. He has lived for a long time, this Galerion. What does he do?” Lilaena inquired innocently.

“He still works with the Guild. And I think he’s involved in fighting against some of the corruption and that sort of thing. We rarely see him here. The last time was several years ago, before I joined. One of the members was suspected of practicing necromancy and he came to help suss out who it was, I believe.”

            _Then he hasn’t changed much_ , Lilaena thought. She acted like she found this all quite interesting but really she was disappointed to hear he was not only alive, but was still in the habit of persecuting those he thought practiced necromancy. _Damn_. Certainly by now the obviously very powerful Galerion had managed to hunt down his old nemesis. She wanted to ask but at the same time, she was terrified of what the answer might be.

            As grateful as she felt for the generosity the Mages’ Guild had shown her, Lilaena couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that she needed to move on before she said too much, or otherwise revealed something that would lead them to discern the actual reason she left Dusk only to appear in Balmora centuries later.

            Introducing herself as Amaire, she inquired about employment at the various establishments in town, and was hired on as a dishwasher in a small restaurant called The Grandmaster’s Platter. The pay was meager and the work was awful for her, especially given her condition, which caused sensitivity to disgusting sights and smells. After a few weeks, however, she was able to leave the shelter of the Mages’ Guild and rent a small room in the manor house of the Hlaalo family, local nobles who were, as luck would have it, not involved in the Mage’s Guild in any way. She told the Hlaalos the same tale she’d invented for the guild members in order to explain away any mystery surrounding her presence.

            The guild members seemed sad to see her go, even though she had tried to remain as distant from them as possible during her stay. She promised she would stop by occasionally to visit, knowing this would likely not be the case, but hoping it would serve to make her departure easier. She knew she would wind up encountering all of them sooner or later; the town was not that big. The other major issue was that as of yet, she hadn’t told anyone of her secret. Soon, she’d not be able to hide it so easily. She decided she’d handle that problem when it arose instead of worrying about it now. Eventually, she would have to consult with a midwife or a healer to ascertain that everything was progressing normally. She wanted to get her bearings first, though, and make sure that whomever she sought out was reputable and just as importantly, not involved with or even remotely familiar with anyone from her past. She knew it was unlikely at this point, but after the guide from Dusk had so succinctly determined who had fathered her child, she was not about to take any chances that anyone else could sniff him out, or whatever it was that elf had done.

            Lilaena developed a regular schedule in the days and weeks that followed, and tried to stay occupied. She had always been at ease with being alone; she’d craved it, even. She was surprised to find that now, she often thought fondly back to her childhood, growing up with her extended family, or even to her days at the Order, surrounded by like-minded students. At the time, she hadn’t appreciated their presence, but suddenly she found herself missing it. Perhaps the change of heart was due to the fact that presently, none of them were available even if she wanted them to be. She was utterly alone; a situation she’d never experienced before. In her rented room, when she knew no one could hear her, she would talk to the small entity she carried. She told it stories, sung to it, and had extended one-sided discussions with it. It was her friend, her confidant, and her only companion. Eventually, it would answer back in little flitting movements she could feel and see if she stared intently enough at her belly. Its presence was beginning to become apparent. The hand-me-down dresses she’d acquired grew progressively tighter around her midsection. She disguised her changing figure under a flowing robe and carried on as normally as possible, trying not to give her condition away by moving or acting differently. Fortunately, for quite a bit longer than she’d have estimated, there wasn’t much to see. Even as she approached the final few months, she could easily hide her belly under the robe, or excuse it as the result of having eaten a bit too much.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

It was Thalys Hlaalo, the wife of her landlord, who first noticed. At this point, Lilaena was entering what would be the last month, having effectively hidden her condition the entire time. She had come down to the kitchen to wash a few dishes she’d used the night before, and she made the mistake of instinctively placing a protective hand on her belly without thinking.

“Amaire, dear,” the lady of the house called out from her seat at the head of the dining room table, a puzzled expression on her grey features.

Lilaena turned at the sound of her alias, smiling politely.

“Come here, would you? Just for a moment.”

Lilaena obliged, still drying last night’s dinner plate with a bit of cheesecloth. She sensed she was about to be told something she didn’t want to hear. Thalys Hlaalo had a habit of stating exactly what she thought at any given time. Lilaena supposed the woman believed it to be acceptable given her social status, but she found it quite untoward, especially when the comments usually involved Thalys expressing some personal opinion about how Altmer look positively terrible in the color orange or how people from the ‘other side of town’ should stay there.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but have you always had a belly like that? It’s quite… _round_. If I didn’t know better, I would assume you were expecting!”

And there it was. Lilaena knew that it wouldn’t be long before there would be no denying the truth. One can’t easily explain away or hide a squalling infant. She sighed, not knowing how Mrs. Hlaalo might react to her admission. She fabricated an explanation about the child belonging to her long-lost husband, and told the woman she’d had no idea of its existence until after she’d arrived in Balmora.

At first, Mrs. Hlaalo seemed displeased, admonishing Lilaena that she wouldn’t be allowed to bring a baby into the manor under any circumstances. It would disrupt the household too much, she insisted, and keep everyone up all night.

Tears welled up in Lilaena’s eyes. “But I have nowhere else to go,” she replied quietly, wishing she hadn’t admitted to anything. She stared down at her netch leather boots, the battered toecaps of which were now just visible past her midsection.

Seeing that her tenant was quite upset must have awakened whatever traces of empathy dwelled in Thalys’s normally cold and snobbish heart. She suddenly became concerned about the child’s welfare and insisted that Lilaena see her personal healer in neighboring Suran immediately.  Lilaena agreed, praying that this abrupt change of heart would see her continuing to have a place to live.

Mrs. Hlaalo accompanied Lilaena on the trip by stilt strider to Suran. During the journey, which took around five hours, she repeated several times that she couldn’t imagine bringing an infant into her quiet and peaceful home. However, she also added that her husband owned some rental flats on the other side of the Odai River, in the poorer part of Balmora, and that perhaps she might persuade him to allow Lilaena and the child to reside in one. Lilaena rather hoped so. She didn’t mind the idea of living in the working class section so much as she relished the prospect of having a place of her own, as opposed to just renting a room in someone else’s house.

The healer, a brusque, older Dark Elf, quickly set about poking and prodding Lilaena all over and asking many questions, some of which seemed more than a little intrusive, about her past – the number of previous lovers she’d had, was she carrying any contagious diseases and so on. Lilaena didn’t mind answering honestly, as at least in this aspect, she felt she had nothing to hide. Yes, she was certain as to who was the father. No, she hadn’t been promiscuous, nor had she ever contracted any sort of disease. The baby seemed to be quite active, and appeared to be growing as it should. She felt a twinge of guilt when he asked her why she’d waited so long to see someone when the health of her child may have depended on it. She shrugged and admitted sheepishly that she’d been afraid of losing her job and her home. Fortunately, the healer found nothing amiss with Lilaena or her little companion, and sent her on her way with instructions to contact a midwife associate of his in Balmora when the time came for the child to arrive.  

Feeling relieved and a bit more confident, Lilaena rejoined Mrs. Hlaalo and the two embarked on the long trip back. The swaying motion of the stilt strider as the enormous, spindly arthropod made its way across the island threatened to lull Lilaena to sleep. The only thing keeping her alert was the nagging worry as to what Mr. Hlaalo’s reaction would be to the news of her condition. He had always treated her well, but such a revelation might bring out a side of him she hadn’t encountered.

As it turned out, Belvyn Hlaalo was actually far more sympathetic to Lilaena’s plight than his wife had been. She suspected he’d taken a liking to her during her time as their tenant, and he had mentioned his admiration for her quiet, hardworking manner. He cheerfully offered to allow her to stay in one of the dwellings he owned on the other side of the river, provided she would assist him in maintaining and renting out the rest. Lilaena couldn’t believe her good fortune and immediately agreed to the arrangement. If she did a good enough job of it, Belvyn proposed, he’d even consider paying her a small stipend so she wouldn’t have to leave the child to work elsewhere. Lilaena was so overjoyed at the offer that she reflexively threw her arms around the scrawny old mer and hugged him tightly.

Over the next few weeks, she took her time moving what few belongings she had to the new flat. She announced her intention to leave her position at the Grandmaster’s Platter, explaining, much to the owner’s surprise, that she’d been expecting the entire time. He’d never even suspected it.

Her first night in the new place was rather interesting. In stark contrast to the peaceful, cozy evenings she’d spent in her room upstairs at the Hlaalo manor, she could hear a wide variety of noises in this flat. Her next door neighbors, a couple of Khajit, seemed to have a constant stream of guests coming and going at all hours. A loud argument punctuated by breaking glass bottles erupted between a gaggle of drunken Dark Elves in the alley beneath her windows, and rats scurried up and down the flagstones outside, constantly reminding her of their unsettling presence.  Lilaena peered out of her window at the rats and the rowdy Dunmer and sighed. _How had she gone so quickly from studying at the most prestigious magical academy in Tamriel, to_ this? Her little companion must have been able to tell that its mum was uneasy because it seemed to want to stay up all night, executing all manner of acrobatics in her belly. Tiny knees and elbows poked into her guts and small feet pushed against her ribcage, causing the baby’s head to bounce off her bladder. No matter what she did, the child wouldn’t be still. Lilaena had recently decided she’d had quite enough of this pregnancy experience, and this just reinforced the thought. She hoped it would soon be over. As she lay there in the unfamiliar bedroom, her mind wandered back to the same place it always wanted to go during idle moments – the unknown state and whereabouts of her child’s errant father. Although she still missed him terribly, she found some comfort in convincing herself that in the form of their child, he was somehow still with her. This baby was a part of him that she could physically hold and talk to and love.

Awaking from a fitful sleep just as the sun rose, Lilaena decided she would go for a walk. She felt antsy and uncomfortable and wanted to stretch her legs. First, she wandered round the neighborhood into which she’d just relocated, investigating the side streets and alleyways. She forced herself to climb up and down the stilt strider platform a couple of times for exercise, and then made her way over to the shops on the other side of the Odai River. All the while, she calmly ignored the mild twinges that came and went at random in her abdomen, as she’d been experiencing them for weeks. However, as she left the apothecary after browsing for a time, she noted that the twinges were becoming a bit more pronounced. Not being one to overdramatize, she continued her errands in spite of the increasing discomfort. She even stopped for a meal and some impromptu socializing at the Grandmaster’s Platter, enjoying the company of the servers and cooks she’d come to know during her employment.

By the time she returned to her flat, it was late afternoon. Sitting in the stillness of her empty dwelling, the intensity of the twinges became much more apparent to her. They were certainly no longer what she would consider ‘mild’. She deliberated for quite a while as to whether or not she might be overreacting, but finally decided she should probably notify the midwife. The pains were starting to take her breath away and make her sweat.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

            Much to Lilaena’s surprise, as she’d been expecting to be greeted by yet another Dunmer, the midwife turned out to be a middle-aged, ebony-furred, female Khajit. The woman took one quick look around Lilaena’s dusty old flat and decided that they should move the whole operation back to her place. Following a brief examination, she scolded Lilaena for waiting so long to seek assistance. She shook a fuzzy forefinger in Lilaena’s direction. “It is almost time,” she explained in her lilting accent. “Who else do we contact?”

            “No one else,” Lilaena sighed. “It’s just me.”

            “The baby has no papa?”

            “No... He—he’s no longer with us. And my family is in Summerset Isles. So… it’s just me.”

            “You have no friends here?” The feline persisted. “You will want someone to be here. Are you sure you have no one I might call on?”

            Lilaena finally relented and named the Hlaalos as her closest associates. She insisted, however, that they not be notified until after the baby had arrived. There was no way on Nirn she’d permit an audience to witness this indignity. She’d been informed it could be quite unpleasant and preferred to keep it as private as possible.

            At first, everything seemed quite bearable, and Lilaena began to suspect that the horror stories she’d heard had been exaggerated, or related by mer with a very low tolerance for pain. The midwife gently inferred that her patient’s labor had begun to slow down a bit, and decided to manually break her water in an attempt to speed up the process. That’s when everything took a precipitous plunge into Oblivion. Whereas before, the pain was nothing a stoic High Elf like Lilaena couldn’t handle, all of a sudden she was suffocating in unspeakable, crushing agony. It felt as though a huge boulder was being slowly ground into her pelvis, smashing everything in its path. She wanted to scream, but the pain was too intense. She barely managed a strangled moan or two.

            The midwife, apparently accustomed to handling much more vocal patients, complimented Lilaena on her fortitude, unaware that it wasn’t courage, but utter torment that kept her in silence. Through the fog of agony, she heard the Khajit tell her to “start pushing” and Lilaena decided at that instant that this torture was _not_ going to continue any longer than it had to. She made a concerted effort to bear down with all of her might; so vehemently that she felt lightheaded and pinpoints of dark and light swam in her vision, but she didn’t care. She wanted it to be over. The midwife praised her efforts and softly placed a paw on Lilaena’s abdomen, waiting for the moment when she could try again.

            As soon as she was given the word, Lilaena pushed once more with a vengeance. The Khajit encouraged her and then, abruptly, urged her to hold off. “Not so hard,” she purred, seemingly amused, “We don’t want the baby to fly across the room!”

            Lilaena did as she was told. The midwife busied herself in the vicinity of Lilaena’s nether regions. All that was apparent from her perspective was that the vortex of pain into which she was being swept intensified immensely and then abruptly subsided altogether, and suddenly she heard very small, squeaky sounds emanating from the foot of the bed. She found herself being handed what appeared to be just a bundle of clean, white blankets.

            “Here he is…” the midwife purred, smiling calmly.

            “It’s a boy?” Lilaena had more or less presumed as much, due to the baby’s rambunctious behavior whilst she carried him.

            “Oh yes, definitely a boy.”

            Lilaena moved the blankets aside to uncover a pair of steely blue eyes staring back at her from a tiny, perfect replica of her former mentor’s face. He seemed perplexed at his new situation -- there was some puzzled knitting of tiny white eyebrows occurring. “Hello,” she whispered, smiling. “You do look like your papa…” She had to check on something. She gingerly pushed the blanket back around his miniature face. _‘Oh yes, he’s got the ears!’_ They looked quite outrageous fully exposed on his nearly bald little head, though. Poor thing; no wonder she’d never seen his father with closely-cropped hair!

            “Oooh, he’s so long and skinny -- like saltrice noodles!” the Khajit woman exclaimed, giggling. “Look at the feet!” She retrieved a miniscule, pale foot from under the edge of the blanket, which Lilaena presently examined to make sure it was complete. The baby seemed to sense that he was safely in the arms of his mother, and promptly fell asleep. 

            The midwife sent for the Hlaalos, who arrived so quickly that Lilaena suspected they may have been hiding round back the whole time, and assumed the role of proud grandparents. No matter that they were a completely different race of elves and had known Lilaena for less than a year. Mrs. Hlaalo kept inventing any excuse she could think of to get her hands on the baby during their visit.

 “Our son hasn’t had any children yet, so this is as close as I can get to having a grandchild,” she explained, smoothing the baby’s downy platinum hair with one finger. She and the midwife set about showing just Lilaena how to feed, burp, change, and swaddle her newborn. “He’s all High Elf, you say? He looks to me like his father might have been a Nord,” she observed in her usual blunt manner. “The skin tone, you know. He’s very pink. And the eyes… although I think most babies are born with blue eyes. They’ll probably change.”

“Yes, I know. His father was Altmer but very pale. He had white hair and blue eyes.” Lilaena replied.

“Hmm, very unusual,” Mrs. Hlaalo sniffed with an air of suspicion.

 _‘Ugh. She probably thinks I banged a Nord and decided to lie about it,’_ Lilaena thought, irritated. She suddenly wished everyone would leave so that she could spend time getting to know her new son without interference.

The midwife handed Lilaena some papers to fill out for the census office. She’d already decided on a name for her son – Rioghnan. She’d read it meant “little king”, and liked that idea. He would certainly be treated like her little king. In typical Altmer fashion, there would be no surname. She completed the forms under her assumed name and handed them back, calling the father “Aidanil” after her own father, and writing “deceased” beside it. She really hoped no one would question any of it, ever.

Finally, the Hlaalos headed home for their evening meal, promising – much to Lilaena’s chagrin -- to return with food and gifts first thing in the morning. The midwife wanted her to remain under observation for the night, and provided her with a simple dinner and clean sheets and nightclothes. She also pushed a bassinet up next to the bed, but Lilaena refused to put the baby down. She’d waited so long to see him and hold him; she was not about to set him aside now. She couldn’t get enough of him. Even as he slept, she was so captivated that she could not take her eyes off him, smitten with his exquisitely pristine, miniature face. 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

            It is, in all races of men and mer, a common occurrence for new and expecting parents to make various promises and declarations regarding child-rearing. Many forget these assertions rather quickly upon being faced with the reality of caring for their offspring. Lilaena was not one of these sorts. She decided before she’d even met little Rioghnan how she would go about raising him and what rules she would apply to herself and her progeny, and her commitment to these promises never wavered. Most importantly, she vowed to protect her baby from the dangers and unkindness of the outside world at all costs. She knew somewhere in the recesses of her psyche that she was attempting to make up for not having been able to “protect” Mannimarco by vowing to keep his child out of harm’s way, but she reasoned she’d quite literally not be able to survive another such loss in one lifetime.

            As an infant, Rioghnan was quiet and generally rather good-natured. He seemed to find humor in the most unexpected things and often had a smile on his face – occasionally even when the moment wasn’t the most opportune. He grew up in the security of his devoted mother’s overprotective arms and although they had very little as far as material wealth, he never wanted for love, attention, or validation. Lilaena made quite sure of that. She educated him herself, taught him to read and write, and often took him on short trips to allow him to experience the world around him – always safely within the walls of Balmora or a nearby city or township, of course. She made sure that he knew everything she did, with the exception of one subject: magic. In her eyes, magic had turned from her sole interest and her life’s goal to a great evil which had robbed her of her homeland, her family, and the love of her life. She quickly noticed a precocious affinity for magic in her son and it terrified her. He was harshly reprimanded for any attempt to demonstrate his abilities. Gods forbid he were to discover he could reanimate a dead scrib, for he would be yanked from her arms to die a prisoner, a desperate fugitive, or to spend his life maligned as some great, evil monstrosity. Under no circumstances would she stand witness to such a tragedy.

            Rioghnan, her Little King, was Lilaena’s world. She willingly sacrificed her own dreams to ascertain that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything. She never thought twice about it; she was happiest just seeing him smile, and knowing he was experiencing the best childhood she could possibly provide. He always sported the finest clothing available and a pair of shiny, new boots, which they could afford only because his mother would wear the same dresses and shoes for a decade or more, mending and patching and ignoring the scuffs and tears until they fell apart completely.

            As a young child, Rioghnan was content to accompany his mother everywhere and never wanted for any other sort of companionship. He was oblivious to the fact that anyone lived any differently. As he grew older, however, he began to take notice of how the resident Dunmer children around his age would play in the streets below his windows, laughing and talking and apparently having great fun, with no parents in sight. He would watch them intently, at first out of curiosity, but increasingly he began to wish that he could be down there with them, joining in their high-spirited conversations and boisterous games. They saw him as well, and would giggle and point at the mysterious “white elf boy” who could often be seen peeking at them from his windows. One scrawny, redheaded Dunmer girl began to wave whenever she’d spot him, and this delighted Rioghnan to no end. He was thrilled to have made a friend. His mother wasn’t so pleased, however, and was torn between her paranoid compulsion to keep him tightly under her protective wing, and the guilt over preventing him from enjoying the company of other children. There ensued a great deal of back-and-forth over the issue, some taking place between the two of them, but especially in Lilaena’s mind, as she struggled to choose whether it was better not to let him out of her sight, or to give in and allow him a little freedom, even if it meant he might be put in some sort of danger.

            After some discussion, it was decided between mother and child that a compromise would be made: Rioghnan could spend time playing with the other children, so long as they remained within Lilaena’s line of sight at all times. This would likely have worked out favorably had the children been a bit younger, but seeing as Rioghnan was now thirteen, and the other children were all around the same age, Lilaena’s vigilance was regarded as quite intrusive and bizarre. When Rioghnan would come down to play, the other children would immediately clear the area, knowing that his mother would be right behind him to watch their every move. He eventually all but gave up on attempting to socialize with the other children. He’d been branded an outcast before he’d even had a chance to get to know any of them on account of his mother’s paranoid behavior. As time went on, the reaction of the other children progressed from avoidance to outright derision. Anytime Rioghnan would so much as show his face, the other children would taunt him, calling him “Mummy’s baby” and even hurling pebbles and rubbish at him on occasion. This awoke in him a great resentment toward Lilaena. He became quite disagreeable and would spend most of his time in his bed, silently staring out of the window and generally being sullen. He no longer wanted to join her on excursions and straight out refused to sit for any lessons, responding to her attempts at conversation with silence or sarcasm.

            As he lay in bed with his back to his mother while she prepared dinner one evening, gazing pensively through the thick glass into the poorly lit alley below, a familiar copper-haired Dunmer appeared – the scrawny girl who had waved at him in the past. She stared up at the window for a moment, and upon realizing that he’d seen her, she waved again, for the first time in over a year. Rioghnan waved back with some hesitation, fully expecting her to produce a rotten ash yam to fling at his window or some such hideous thing, but much to his relief, she just smiled. And then, she motioned at him to come down. He shook his head, instinctively glancing in the direction of his mother. There was no way she wouldn’t notice him leaving the flat, and he was fairly certain this girl was luring him into some sort of trap, anyway. The Dark Elf yelled something in response a couple of times. At first he couldn’t figure out what it was, but then he realized she had shouted, “Later.”

            Rioghnan nodded in response, hoping to get her to leave before his mother took notice. He’d made the mistake of telling Lilaena about the children’s derisive behavior and now she absolutely despised the lot of them. There was no way in Oblivion she’d ever knowingly allow him to associate with them again.

            In the middle of the night, he was awakened by a strange tapping noise. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that it was coming from the window. The Dunmer girl was back outside, throwing small pebbles. Two things came to Rioghnan’s mind: His immediate reaction was to become defensive, as he was certain she intended to harass him with this absurd pebble-throwing, and he feared that his mother would awaken and mortify him by reprimanding the girl on his behalf. He decided to take care of the matter himself. He pulled his boots on, clad only in his nightclothes, and crept as quietly as he could down the stairs, his face hot with anger.

           

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

Rioghnan felt intimidated by the girl, and by the possibility she hadn’t come alone to ridicule him, but he wasn’t actually _afraid._ He was too irritated to be afraid. He’d never been in any kind of physical altercation, but despite his tender age, he already stood a head or more higher than the very largest of the Dunmer youths; unusually tall even for a High Elf of his age. He was quite thin and not at all muscular, but he thought in his annoyance that he could take any one of the rotten little s’wits and probably the whole crew.

            At first, it appeared that the girl had fled upon realizing he was actually coming down. He remained in the entrance to the stairwell, craning his neck to see as far toward either end of the alley as possible. Then, out of the shadows on the other side of the flagstone lane, the girl emerged, smiling at him. Her teeth were gleaming white against her dark grey skin and her eyes a typical Dunmer deep red. “Hello,” she mumbled, her voice and posture both unexpectedly demure.

            _“Go away,”_ Rioghnan growled as threateningly as he could muster through clenched jaws.

            She looked down, pressing her lips together into a thin line of apparent disappointment.

            Rioghnan glared at her and crossed his arms over his chest to show her he meant business, but she wouldn’t leave. “Get _out_ of here!” He demanded. He had considered issuing an idle threat involving what his Mum might do to her if she were to awaken, but thought better of it.

“I’m sorry…” the girl offered, pleading with her eyes.

            “Yea?” Rioghnan shrugged her apology off obstinately. “Great. Then clear off and quit throwing things at my window.”

            “Okay. But …I just… wanted… you to come down.” The girl appeared to be uneasy and stumbled over her words. She kept her eyes on the ground save for an occasional awkward glance up to his face.

            “So I have. And what for? So your mates can chuck some rubbish at me?”

            “No… So as I… I can just… talk to you -- without them.”

            Rioghnan couldn’t determine why on Nirn this elf was so nervous. He expected at any moment that her friends would surge out of the shadows to assault him in some fashion. “Yea? And why’d you want to do that?”

            The Dunmer shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know. You hate me don’t ya?”

            “Can’t say I like you,” Rioghnan retorted.

            “Well… I don’t hate you. I just… I just wanted to tell ya that, is all.”

            “Okay...” He wasn’t ready to drop his defenses yet. If that was all she had to say then shouldn’t she be on her way now?

            “What’s your name? I’m Nilsie.” She was slowly edging toward him.

            “Rioghnan.”

            “You’re Altmer, aye?”

            “Aye.”

            “You’ve got …lovely eyes…” Nilsie visibly cringed after she spoke as if she wanted to take back her words.

            Rioghnan regarded her as if she was quite mad but he had to stifle a laugh.

            “Sorry,” Nilsie stammered, hiding her face in her hands.

            “It’s alright,” Rioghnan replied. “I’ve heard worse.”

            Nilsie laughed -- a little too loudly -- and then quickly went back to cringing.

            “How old’re you?” Rioghnan asked. He wasn’t trying to make conversation; he legitimately wanted to know. It was hard to tell when even most adults were shorter than he was.

            “Fourteen. Be fifteen the beginning of Last Seed, though. You?”

            “Evening Star I’ll be fifteen.”

            “I’m older,” Nelsie declared matter of factly.

            “Shut up, by four months, aye.” Rioghnan sniffed dismissively.

            “Still.” She replied with a smug little smirk.

            “Then you’ll die first, that’s all.”

            Nilsie looked a bit perturbed by his cutting retort. She sucked her teeth dismissively. “Not if I kill you first, n’wah.”

            “N’wah – Pshhht. I was born here.” Rioghnan countered.

            “Aye, but _technically,_ you’re still an n’wah. Cos you’re a High Elf. And you’ve got a High Elf accent.”

            Rioghnan made an irritated face at her. “I’m going back to bed.”

            “No, stay.” Nilsie whined.

            “Why?”

            “Cos I want ya to.”

            “So? My mum’ll kill me if she wakes up and I’m down here with you.”

            Nilsie sighed. “She won’t kill ya. She’ll just be a bit cross. And so what, ya can’t always be with your mum forever and ever. It’s weird.”

            Rioghnan knew how bizarre his mother’s paranoid behavior was. He hated it. He was torn between agreeing with Nilsie, because she was absolutely right, and defending his mother, since the idea of a strange little Dunmer saying negative things about her was innately offensive to him.  “I know…” He mumbled. “She only does it to protect me.”

            “From _what?”_ Nilsie asked incredulously.

            “From everything, I reckon. She’s afraid she’ll lose me like she lost my father.”

            “What happened to him?”

            “I think he got killed by magic before I was born. She won’t ever talk about it, really. She just said she hates magic coz it took him away.” 

             Nilsie raised her eyebrows. “That’s awful. But she still shouldn’t keep you like a prisoner. It’s not right.”

             Just then, Rioghnan’s ears picked up the sound of the doorknob turning at the top of the stairs. “You have to go,” he whispered urgently as he turned to race back up.

            “Alright, yea… tomorrow!” Nilsie ordered him, smiling.

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

The stairway was illuminated as the door to his flat swung open. Lilaena peered out and called his name.

“I’m right here, Mum,” he replied, already halfway up.

“What on Nirn were you doing down there?” Lilaena demanded, her voice creaky with sleep.

“I heard a noise,” Rioghnan replied. “I went to see what it was.”

“In the middle of the night? Ri, that was dangerous. It could’ve been anything out there. Robbers, assassins, a rabid nix hound…”

Rioghnan stifled a laugh. “Here, in Balmora? Come on, Mum.”

“You never know.”

“I do know. It was -- nothing. You worry too much. Not everything in Tamriel is out to hurt us, you know. Nobody _cares_ that much about us.”

What he said made perfect sense, but it wasn’t the crux of Lilaena’s paranoia. She never suspected that _everyone_ was out to cause them harm. She just worried _someone_ might be homicidal, and that that someone would _happen_ to choose her child, and she’d be left to suffer and die alone, having lost both of her precious mer. “I know the chances are slim that something might happen to you. But if it did, I would never forgive myself. I can’t lose you, Ri. You’re all I have.”

“I can’t stay with you forever, Mum. What about my life? Don’t I get to have one?”

“Of course you do. When you’re old enough. You’re only fourteen – nobody should be out on their own in the world at your age.” She pulled him in and held him close, smoothing his long, white hair down with one hand.

Rioghnan sighed out of frustration and defeat. Part of him was compelled to wrench away from her and run out the door but then he couldn’t stand the idea of upsetting her; it made him feel guilty. They’d had similar conversations over and over. He’d make a play for a tiny bit of freedom and she would immediately put a stop to it, insisting he just wasn’t old enough yet, or it wasn’t the right time. “I wish my father was alive. I want to find him and bring him back to life, so you can have him to torture instead of me,” he grumbled.

            Lilaena giggled in spite of herself. “You’re funny. That sounds like something he’d have said.”

            “See? He agrees with me. Mum, he agrees. ‘Let the boy have some freedom’.” Rioghnan joked wryly, dropping his voice in an attempt to sound like an older elf.

            That night, and all the next day, Rioghnan found that all he could think of was Nilsie. He was terribly excited about the prospect of sneaking out and getting to talk to her again. The odd thing about it was that he actually found her a bit irksome, but somehow this did not serve to dampen his excitement over seeing her again.

            The evening seemed to drag on endlessly as he waited for his mother to go to bed. He wasn’t sure whether he should wait and see if Nilsie would arrive to throw more pebbles at his window, or just slip away and try to find her. The minutes ticked by as he lay in bed, staring out the window, hoping his mother wouldn’t awaken and stop him if he tried to leave.

            After lying there for what seemed like an extremely long time, he finally couldn’t take the suspense anymore and stealthily pulled his boots on to creep downstairs and have a look around. There was no sign of Nilsie. He ventured into the alley, ears tuned for anything that might sound like her, or like his mother charging after him in a rage. He could make out the noises of neighboring families in their homes, and a few voices here and there in the distance, talking, shouting, laughing. He had never been outside of his flat without his mother close by -- especially at night. And now here he was, in his pajamas no less, wandering down the alley. He felt a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. The cold nighttime air bit through the thin fabric of his nightclothes, and he wished he’d thought to grab a cloak, but he figured that returning for one now would raise the chances of awakening his mother. He knew that if she discovered he’d slipped out again, she’d be furious and race downstairs to find him, so he stuck to the shadows. At any rate, he thought he could have a few moments’ freedom before she caught him and disciplined him. This way, he supposed, at least the adventure would be worth the ensuing punishment.

            He was understandably feeling a bit paranoid, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone suddenly clutched his arm. Much to his elation, he whipped around, heart still hammering madly, and saw Nilsie beaming up at him. “Hello, _Rhee_ -uh-nun!” She greeted him, mockingly drawing out the syllables in his name with a feisty gleam in her burgundy-colored eyes. “Ya sneaked out, ya naughty boy!”

Rioghnan grinned roguishly.

“We’re going to have a bit of fun tonight,” Nilsie declared, grabbing both of his hands and jogging backward, effectively pulling him down the road, away from his flat. He looked down at their hands together. Hers were tiny and dark compared to his. A strange, electric feeling shot through him.

            “Where’re we going?” Rioghnan finally inquired, his mind conjuring up images of her swarthy little friends crouching round the next shadowy corner to accost him. He really wanted to trust her, and in any case, he wasn’t about to call it off and run home, even if it did mean he’d receive a proper kicking from the other Dunmer kids tonight. Whatever it took to get him accepted, he was prepared for it. _No more of this ‘Mummy’s baby’ nonsense_.

            “You’ll see,” she replied slyly. She continued through the town, Rioghnan in tow. He began to hear music in the distance, a deep, rhythmic drumbeat echoing down the alley. Nilsie pulled him toward the source of the sound – the local Cornerclub, a popular place where adult commoners frequently gathered for music, dancing, and drinks.

            “Uh… they’re not going to let us in here,” Rioghnan informed her, knowing quite well they’d take one look at the two of them and immediately send them packing for being underage.

            “We’re not going _in…_ ” An impish grin curled the corners of her mouth. She hopped onto the railing of the stone stairway that led from the town’s upper level to the middle with great grace and agility. “We’re going on _top_ of it!” Grabbing onto the molding that adorned the upper portion of the building with her fingertips, Nilsie pulled herself up and onto the roof. Rioghnan followed suit, struggling a bit more than she had, but finally dragging his lanky frame over the edge. She motioned for him to follow and darted toward the front of the building, where the music was loudest. They sat down with their backs against the wall that surrounded the roof, giggling with satisfaction and mischievousness.

            “This is nice!” Rioghnan exclaimed. The music from inside was loud enough that he had to yell a little to be heard. “Do you think they’ll suss us out?”

            “They haven’t yet,” Nilsie replied. “I do this all the time. So, ya like it or what?”

            “I like it, aye,” he confirmed.

            Nilsie reached into one of the pockets on her old, green skirt and pulled out a bit of scrib jerky. “Want some?” She waved it about as if to try to entice her companion.

            “Sure,” Rioghnan shrugged.

            “Then come and get it.” She retorted, then bit down on the piece of dried meat so that only a small piece stuck out of her mouth. She leaned forward, as if to offer it to him.

           


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

“Ugh, not now it’s been in your filthy gob.” Rioghnan shot back, curling his upper lip in disgust.

“Ya s’wit, that’s the point.” Nilsie shot back, offended. “And it ain’t filthy.”

            “Why don’t you just hand it over? Why’d you have to put your mouth on it?”

             She rolled her eyes emphatically and laughed. “You’re such an arse, Rioghnan. You’ve got _no_ inkling at all why I might’ve done that?”

            “No,” he insisted, mystified. He tried to fathom why on Nirn she’d have done a stupid thing like that. She was such a strange mer. Perhaps it was some Dark Elf custom he’d never been exposed to.

            Nilsie sighed in defeat. “I did it… so you’d have to kiss me. Okay?”

            Rioghnan made a face. “You’re a right weird elf.”

            “I ain’t. You are. I’ve never met no elf weird as you are.”

            “Why would you want to kiss me? I hardly know you.”

            “I don’t; I was windin’ ya up that’s all. S’wit.”

            Rioghnan was quite certain that she was lying and had, in fact, fancied a kiss from him. Having only been in receipt of the occasional smooch on the cheek from his mother, however, and possessing very little knowledge of anything in the world outside her watchful presence, he couldn’t begin to fathom why. He squinted at her dubiously, so that his eyes were nearly obscured by stark white lashes. A peculiar and mystifying thought crossed his mind that perhaps it _would_ be somewhat pleasant to kiss Nilsie. Part of him wanted to try it. Another part of him wanted to pinch her or pull her hair instead, to see if perhaps she might cry. She had called him a s’wit _again_ , after all. As a compromise, he presently licked the palm of his hand and wiped it on her skirt. She shrieked, seized his hand and viciously dug her fingernails into it. Rioghnan laughed so hard he went all silent and tears filled his eyes.

            “Ugh!” Nilsie exclaimed. She let go of his hand and punched him in the knee, apparently infuriated at his amusement.

            The punch actually hurt a little. “Ouch,” he managed, still laughing. He kicked at her, catching her in the shin, which incensed her even more.

            Nilsie swore and lunged at him, but she was so diminutive and lightweight that he just reached out and caught her mid-lunge around the ribcage, inverting her and pinning her down in one swift motion. She struggled and made raspberries, trying to spray him in the face.

            “Stop,” he ordered her, trying to take an authoritative tone but still giggling and breathless from laughing so much. “Stop or I’ll -- bite your nose off.” She wouldn’t relent, so he leaned in closer as if he was actually going to do it. She picked up her head and licked him in the face. “Ew!” Rioghnan couldn’t think of anything else do to, his hands occupied keeping hers immobile, so he did the same thing to her.  She screamed terrifically, much to his delight. “Take it,” he growled, aiming to lick her again. This time he got her square in the eye. _Nice one!_ He was laughing so hard it began to sound like he was sobbing. He lowered his face down to hers, pondering his next move. Intentionally drooling onto her forehead struck him as an outstanding idea.

“Quit it – let me go, ya bloody arsehole,” Nilsie whined, half-laughing.

Rioghnan shook his head, grinning evilly; his face millimeters from hers. She struggled underneath him and he found it peculiarly enjoyable.

She repeated her demand, though a bit less emphatically. He refused to budge. Suddenly, she lifted her face and kissed him right on the mouth. It surprised him, as he was fully expecting to be spat on or head-butted, and he pulled back instinctively. “There,” she panted with a coy smile, “Got ya.”

Nonplussed, but not exactly hating this new turn of events, Rioghnan repeated her actions straightaway. He could hear the pounding of his own heart in his ears above the rhythm of the music from the club below. Nilsie kissed him back, so he did the same to her – it was all quite novel and thrilling. Then, abruptly, she tried to shove him away. “Ew, get off!” She shrieked.

Rioghnan pulled back and stared at her, baffled.

“Get off; you’re _pokin’_ me, _ugh!”_

“Huh?” Rioghnan scrambled backward until he was leaning against the wall again, mystified by the unexpected turn of events.

“You’re pitchin’ a tent, ya shitehawk!” Nilsie pointed at his pajama bottoms, grimacing.

“ _What_ , I’m not a shitehawk; that just… happens sometimes. I didn’t do it on _purpose,”_ Rioghnan tried to explain, still not certain as to why she found it so horrifying. Feeling a bit mortified at the realization that this was clearly something offensive, he pulled his shirt down to conceal the evidence. “There, now it’s gone,” he declared. He struggled not to crack a smile for fear she might attack.

“Nasty boy. I hate you with a passion,” Nilsie shot back – but she too was obviously trying to keep a straight face.

“No you don’t. You like me.” He sighed casually, as he was quite certain he was correct.

“I do _not.”_

“Aye. You do. If not then you wouldn’t’ve kissed me like that.”

Nilsie stuck out her tongue.

“Aye, you want to lick me now?”

“Fuck _off,”_ she laughed incredulously.  

He gave her a smug little grin, to which she immediately responded with a rude gesture.

“What’s that? A sign of love?”

“Love for what, your nasty high elf wang?”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Ughhhhhh!” Nilsie pummeled him with kicks until he fell over laughing.

“Oi! Who’s up there?” An unfamiliar, deep voice cut through the rhythmic din of the club’s music.

Rioghnan instantly bolted upright and Nilsie whipped around in the direction of the voice. Amber firelight from a handheld torch flickered on the familiar bonemold armor of a Redoran guard. “You two, come down from there!”

Rioghnan glanced fearfully at his companion. The two of them shuffled over and climbed down. The guard studied Rioghnan. “Aren’t you the one we’re looking for? The Altmer boy who’s missing? Your mum’s having a right fit, you know.”

Rioghnan dropped his head and stared at the toes of his boots.

“This is all _your_ fault,” Nilsie hissed.

“Liar, you _made_ me go,” he retorted.

The guard briskly ushered both of them across town to a guard tower at the opposite wall. Before he could even open the door, Lilaena spilled out, sobbing, and rushed to embrace her son.


	15. Chapter 15

 

            “Where _were_ you?” Lilaena demanded with dramatic anger, grabbing both of his arms and shaking him. “You scared me, Ri! How could you do this?”

            “I found them fighting on the roof of the Cornerclub,” the guard spoke up.

            _“What?”_ Lilaena gasped, her gaze finding Nilsie, who looked genuinely afraid.

            “We were having a laugh, Mum,” Rioghnan explained.

            Lilaena looked horrified. “What were you _doing_ up there?” She kept glancing at Nilsie. “Who… who made you do this?”

            A sarcastically incredulous chuckle escaped him. “Nobody made me. _I_ did it …because I _wanted_ to.”

            Nilsie’s eyes darted to her partner in crime with an expression of surprise.

            “Ri… I was so scared. How could you _do_ this to me?” Lilaena continued, sniffing.

            Rioghnan took a deep breath, thoroughly mortified by his mother’s behavior. “Come on… let’s go home. We can talk about this at home.” He turned to Nilsie. “I’ll see you later.”

            “Er – yes, alright,” Nilsie stammered, nodding her head. She smiled coyly.

            “Miss Travyn, you should go home as well,” the guard warned Nilsie. Clearly this was not their first encounter. “Your father’s shift starts in less than an hour. He’ll not be pleased to find you here again.”

            Nilsie gave him a dismissive smirk. “He doesn’t care.” But she still turned on her heels and strode off, looking back at Rioghnan repeatedly until she had to round a corner out of sight.

            Rioghnan waited until she was gone to walk away. He stayed a few paces in front of his mother the whole way home.

            As soon as they were inside the flat, Lilaena began sobbing again.

            Rioghnan swallowed his automatic guilt and regarded her stoically. He was sure he was being manipulated and it made him furious, but it just wasn’t in him to raise his voice at her. “Mum, listen…”

            “I thought you were _dead_ ,” Lilaena cried. “I don’t understand why you would…”

            “Mum. We’re not doing this again.”

            “Why, _why_ would you just _leave?_ ”

            Rioghnan waited in silence for her to relent.

            She carried on for a bit longer before she noticed he wasn’t responding. “Ri?” Lilaena stared up at him, suddenly seeming a bit uncertain.

            “Are you quite finished?” He inquired. He maintained a calm tone and expression, in spite of the turmoil he felt inside. He just kept clenching his jaw over and over.

            “I just want to you to be safe,” Lilaena sniffed.

            Without a word, Rioghnan turned around and headed for the door, pulling his cloak off the hook as he passed.

            “No – Ri – where are you going?”

            “Out.” He pulled the door open.

            “Don’t leave. It’s the middle of the night, where will you go?”

            Rioghnan shrugged and stepped out.

            “Wait. _Wait!_ Rioghnan, I’m sorry. Don’t go,” Lilaena pleaded. He proceeded down the first few steps, and she dashed after him.

            “Don’t leave… Ri. What do I have to do to get you to stay?”

            He paused and looked back at her.

            “What do you want me to do?” She repeated.

            “I want you to let me grow up. I’m fourteen; not four. I deserve at least a bit of freedom.”

            Lilaena agreed and begged him to return to the flat for the night. After a bit of negotiating, she begrudgingly granted him permission to roam the town alone – only during daylight hours, of course, and he was to share with her his intended plans for the day. In return, she asked that he assist her in caring for the numerous rental flats she still managed for the Hlaalos. Rioghnan had absolutely no issue with this. However, he refused to believe his mother would actually stand behind her promise until he witnessed it himself.

            The following morning, he decided to test the waters a bit and after breakfast, informed her he was planning to do a bit of exploring.

            “Oh dear. Where will you go?” Lilaena responded, her face suddenly a mask of desperate concern.

            “I’m going across the river to the shops, that’s all. Just for a bit. I’ll be home by midday.” He began to pull on his boots in preparation.

            The tension in the air was palpable. Lilaena appeared agitated. Rioghnan was certain she was trying to hurriedly formulate some reason as to why he shouldn’t leave. He nearly bolted for the door, hoping to outrun any impending diversion his mother might throw at him.

            “Bye, see you in a bit,” he called over his shoulder, not intending to stop moving for even a split second.

            “Wait—“ Lilaena surged forward.

            Rioghnan felt his heart drop. Much to his relief, she simply requested a kiss goodbye and his word that he would remain in Balmora and steer clear of any dangerous situations. No visiting the Cornerclub or messing with the stilt strider. No jumping into the Odai River – it was teeming with deadly slaughterfish. No talking to strange men or mer as they could be Camonna Tong or necromancers looking for their next test subject. He agreed with whatever she asked, and with that, he was off. _This town is mine,_ he thought, elated at the prospect. He had to stop himself from literally skipping down the flagstone path away from his home.

            He had no idea where he should go now that he was on his own, so he did as he had told his mum and went across the river to browse some of the local vendors’ wares. It was not as if he had any money to spend, but the activity itself was entertaining because it made him feel as though he was doing something productive. He imagined which pieces of armor he might select; which skillfully carved staff or shining blade he could wield when the time came for him to go adventuring on his own – something he fully intended to do one day. It seemed an eventuality that lurked quite far ahead into his future however, which gave it a romantic quality as he daydreamed of it. He might become a brave warrior, or a skilled mage, or maybe a merchant seaman or traveling alchemist. One day, he would find adventure and glory in some far-flung corner of Vvardenfell, or maybe even a distant province of Tamriel. Certainly he had no intention of living out his life safely and pointlessly within the city walls of Balmora.

            Rioghnan stopped to observe a group of robed mages’ apprentices practicing their craft outside the local guild, working his way to the front of the gathering spectators. They seemed to be performing some sort of theatrical display on this particular morning. He sighed inadvertently at his mother’s voice playing in the back of his mind, admonishing him of the evils of the magical arts. He found it all quite intriguing. He had secretly tried many times to conjure a small flame or burst of electricity between his fingertips and had actually succeeded once or twice, only to be scolded and shamed by Lilaena for even attempting such things.

            He realized he’d been gaping at the mages’ apprentices for an inordinately long time. Slightly embarrassed, he looked away from the light blue gaze of a richly costumed older Altmer mage who studied him from behind the apprentices. At the old mer’s right hand stood a fair-skinned high elf girl, perhaps a few years older than Rioghnan. She appeared rather unimpressed at the present goings-on. Her hair was long and straight and glinted like flame in the midmorning sun. Rioghnan tore his eyes away from her slinky form and slipped back into the crowd of spectators the moment he saw her head shift slightly, lest she take notice of his interest. He knew he’d never seen either of the two before, and the latter was quite intriguing to him.

            He was attempting to covertly observe the Altmer girl from between two bulky, armored town guards when he was startled by a sudden slap on his backside. He nearly let out a shriek as he spun around to see Nilsie grinning up at him. “What’re you doing here, ya s’wit? Escaped from your mum again?” She teased.

            “Gods, you nearly scared the piss out of me,” Rioghnan replied, feeling mixed emotions at her appearance.

            “Good, I meant to,” Nilsie retorted. “I wish you’d actually pissed though. I would’ve _literally_ died laughing.”

            “You’d still peg it if I pissed now? Cos I’m fairly certain I could conjure some up for that.”

            “Ha, ha, fuck off. I’ll piss on your foot, aye. Arsehole.” Nilsie glanced downward before taking a cheerful tone as if she hadn’t just issued an idle threat. “So, what shall we do today?”

 


End file.
